Lay Miserables
by Xenovia77
Summary: As Ex Convict Hershel Layton breaks parole in order to live a new life, he is caught up in a world of Revolution, rebellion and Fatherhood.
1. Look Down

_So, I FINALLY got round to watching Les Miserables (Which I've been meaning to do for ages) and it reminded me of that brilliant crossover that several of the Layton fandom had come up with. There were a couple of great stories for it but sadly none had been completed so I thought, why not write one?  
(Some of my character casts are different to some though)  
**This is likely to contain spoilers for most games**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own either of the franchises**__  
_  
_Chapter 1: Look Down_

The waves crashed against the walls, the icy spray hitting the faces of those who stood there. The wreckage of the airship that had crashed into near the shore, The Bostonius, was a far heavier task than anyone had expected, the few that were newer to the work would cry out in pain each time the ropes they pulled grazed their hands, while the men who'd spend half of their lives doing it barely flinched. The similar dirt and unkempt hair brought on from the years of suffering made each prisoner near impossible to tell apart from one another, most probably couldn't even remember how they looked before their arrest.

Atop the walls, Inspector Jean Descole watched them with a keen eye, the black lenses of his mask giving no indication of contentment nor disgust. He spotted in the centre of the crowd the convict he was searching for, and he continued watching him as the prisoners were called away from the work. He swiftly moved down to where they walked in single file and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Prisoner 1919. Correct?" The other man turned to look at him, his weary eyes widening in surprise when he realised who he was faced with. He nodded quickly, wondering why he had been singled out. "Fetch that mast." He instructed, signalling to the large wooden post which had been thrown to the ground. The convict muttered something and waded through the water towards it, the rags we wore weighing him down. He looked around at the wreckage and carefully calculated the dimensions of it, allowing him to hoist the mast onto his shoulder with ease, the years as a slave had made this merely a basic task for him. The inspector studied him as he moved, noticing how easily he managed. When the prisoner returned back to his place, Descole looked him over and handed him a yellowed piece of parchment. "Now, 1919. It has been 19 years today since you were arrested. I assume you know what that means." The other man would have smiled if he weren't so exhausted.  
"Yes. It means I'm free." Relief washed over him, this nightmare was finally over.  
"No." Descole smirked at the man as he watched his spirit sink; they were always so unaware of the world's workings. "Follow down to the entrance to receive your itinerary, and remember to show them this badge. It warns you a dangerous man."

"I'm not a dangerous man; I only stole a loaf of bread. It was to save my brother's daughter. She was starving-"

"You've spent the last 19 winters a criminal. You'd better get used to it, because the title will stay with you until you die. Remember that 1919." The newly released prisoner glared at him, clenching the paper between his fingers.  
"My name is Hershel Layton." He was no longer a slave to this inspector, and refused to be treated as one. The inspector to a step closer so that his mask was near enough touching Layton's face.  
"And mine's Descole. Do not forget that. And do not forget me" He jabbed a finger at his chest. "1919." He swung around and began barking orders at the other workers, leaving Layton with his thoughts. He looked back at the crowds, as the inmates looked over in anger and jealousy, then made his way over to the entrance.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been weeks since Hershel had been released from his prison, but he was slowly learning that being free wasn't the same as having freedom. He'd been to workplace after workplace, but every time people saw his badge they turned him away, even when he was merely walking by their establishment. He wondered if this was to be his life now, just wandering between each hateful town until his death. That was until he came by the Puzzle shack.

The Puzzle shack was an old cottage on the outskirts of London, nobody knew who lived there but there were many rumours flying about, many impolite and wild rumours. That was the very reason why Hershel chose this as his place to stay, if the inhabitants were so isolated by the rest of the world, they would have no reason to hate someone like him. In fact, they'd probably welcome his company. And he was right.

The place was run by an elderly woman, who Hershel soon learned was named Granny Riddleton. She ushered him in and quickly placed a bowl of warm food on the table, along with a couple of puzzles to ease his mind. He wolfed down his meal, earning him several disapproving looks from Riddleton's granddaughter, while the old woman herself just smiled and offered him more.

He'd never be able to explain why he'd ever tried to commit a crime against her, when she was so forgiving to him. Yet away he ran in the middle of the night with a bag full of her silverware and golden hint coins. It was just a plan he had concocted after seeing all the kindness and warmth of the Puzzle shack, he wasn't ready to return to his cold penniless life back in the city. Two blank faced officers had dragged him back to the front doors and thrown him at Riddleton's feet, retelling his theft and insulting him.

"Mam, we've got your belongings here, had the nerve to say you gave him this. As if anyone would just give away hintcoins."

"Why yes. He's right Y'know." The woman smiled down and winked at Hershel. "But sonny boy, you left so soon that you forgot to take these as well." She picked up a small ornament from the mantelpiece, a golden apple, and handed it to him "You wouldn't wanna leave that one would you?" She grabbed Hershel under the arm and hoisted him upright. She opened the door to allow the officers to leave the house "This boy's done no wrong, so please, just let him be. I hope you have a fine evening sir." After the men were gone Hershel looked to her in confusion

"Why would you do that? When I've done you so wrong. It was truly ungentlemanly." Granny Riddleton laughed and patted him on the back.

"I know you meant well by it, so please, keep the treasures."

"Madam, if I can do anything for you-" She stopped him halfway and handed the bag of silverware back to him.

"All I ask is that you use them wisely. See a higher cause in it."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Hershel sat in his bed chambers that night, he stared out the window into the darkness. His guilt had been forgotten by Granny Riddleton's kindness. If anyone else had seen him today, he'd have been back under Descole's glare pulling the Bostonius. He knew this was never going to happen again, that someone would actually help a criminal like him. The badge of Convict's, his past and even his name stopped him from even be treated as a human by anybody higher up than him. If he stayed living in this way, he'd die within a few days. It was time to be rid of his criminal past and become a person once again. Hershel pulled his coat on and ran out of the Puzzle shack. He stood there and yelled to the empty surroundings

"I'll escape now from this world, from the world of Hershel Layton!" He took the parchment he was given out of his coat and tore it to shreds, throwing it to the wind. He no longer lived that life, he whispered to himself. "A new story must begin."

_Reviews would be very appreciated!_  
_And the next chapter should hopefully be up soon as I've already written most of it._

_I applaud anyone who can work out the reason behind Layton's Prison number._


	2. At the End of the Day

_I said it'd be up soon, and here it is! (Don't expect other updates to be that fast though)  
_Thank you for all the reviews, it actually really motivates me to write the rest!  
**There are Implied spoilers for Azran Legacy, as well as a PL vs AA character (who isn't particularly spoilery)**

I own nothing

Chapter 2: At the End of the Day

The rain hit against the streets of Folsense, as the hooves of horses thundered past. The people in the alleyways turned away from the inspectors and covered their children protectively. Everyone knew that they were never there to help the citizens, despite being heads of the law. They stopped outside the old factory, hoping to find the mayor there.

Inside the building, women worked busily at their stations, needles moving almost in time with each other. The boss, a man named Jakes, walked between them, and it was clear to see that every time he passed a worker she would shuffle as far away as she could in her seat. Affectionately named 'Third eyes Jakes' as he always managed to fire women because of a single thing they did wrong, even if he'd not been looking when it happened, almost as if he had an extra eye in the back of his head.

One worker he kept an extra close eye on was Claire Foley; a young woman who always seemed to come back to work broke just after being paid. He wondered what on earth she was spending her money on.

The other women noticed this sudden interest and suspected the worst of her, leading to nasty stories spreading throughout the factory. As they finished up work for the day, one of them finally found out what was going on. A small letter was peeking out of Claire's jacket, and she snatched it up immediately. "So what have we here then?" she remarked, signalling for the other girls to come over. Claire noticed and tried to grab it from her hand

"No Kira, Give that back!" She jumped for it as Kira retreated into the crowd and began reading it aloud

"Dear Claire, You must send us more money. Your child needs a doctor-" She widened her mouth in surprise. "Child? You've never mentioned that to Jakes now have you, why not?" Claire snatched the letter back from her and stuffed it into her pocket.

"That is neither your, nor his business."

"How're you paying for it then?" Before she could stop her Kira was yelling for Jakes. Claire leapt at her and tried to get her to stop drawing his attention. At this moment, a bell rang as the door to the factory opened and a loud shout was heard.

"What is this fighting about? True ladies would never involve in such behaviour." Hershel Layton, though he no longer used that name, stood in the doorway. He shook the rain out of his top hat and placed it back on his head "I am the mayor of this town and I ask that you stop this nonsense."

"Ah, Mr Bronev what brings you here? I was told you weren't checking in till tomorrow" Jakes came running down the stairs to deal with the crisis but stopped as he saw the top hatted mayor.

"Please, Theodore will do just fine. I'm just on my way to meet the inspector, but I heard the situation. Though I am assured that you will be dealing with it in the proper manner." He shook hands with the man "Please be patient and sort this out." When he tipped his hat and exited to the next room, Jakes let out a yell.

"So who's causing the problem then eh? Who am I gonna have to throw out?" Claire tried to slink to the back of the crowd but Kira pushed her back forward and handed the letter to Jakes.

"Turns out that Ms Foley here has a kid back home, an ill kid. Notice how she never has money left the day after payday? Well there's why." Jakes laughed

"But the amount this job pays hardly allows enough for a week's food; it'd never pay for a kid. If you tried to pay medical expenses you'd starve."

"Exactly." Said Kira, nudging Claire "And where'd you think she got the kid from? She ain't married." She dropped her voice low and hissed "She's obviously been _sleeping about_." Jakes raised his eyebrows in glee. Claire tried to ramble out an explanation.

"Sleeping about hey? I can't have women like that working here, you're no better than a bleedin' criminal."

"But sir I need this job, You yourself just said that medical expenses-"

"Shut it, I don't want to hear your excuses. Come on girl, on your way." The other girls stared on in amusement as Claire was thrown to the street, yelling for someone to help her. As she saw Hershel through the door she began screaming for him, but he didn't look away from his conversation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Thank you for your time Mr Descole, I know you have such a busy schedule these days. Is the new job suiting you well?" Descole removed his hat and held it against his chest.

"I thank you for giving me such an opportunity; this town is far better than that dock where I used to be. I'm more interested in catching criminals than watching over them" Descole looked towards Hershel, as if he had noticed something "Speaking of which, have we met before? I'm sure I've seen you while I was working there…." Panic rushed through Hershel's head, but he assumed he'd managed to hide it well as Descole's expression never changed.

"I don't believe we have. Believe me, I would remember" He laughed "that mask of yours isn't difficult to forget." Descole frowned and opened his mouth to speak again but never got a word out as there was a crash from out in the street.

"Hurry, there seems to be a problem" Descole flipped his hat back onto his head as he followed Layton; they bustled through the crowds of women until they came to the doorway and saw the mess outside. A cart had fallen, trapping a man underneath. Hershel was disgusted to see that many of the townspeople were simply watching, some were even laughing, as this man struggled. He moved over and began calming down the victim.

"Sir? Sir are you okay, are you hurt?"  
"I'm fine, but I don't think I can get out anyway" Hershel recognised that voice from when he was a boy, as his memory flashed back to those schooldays where Mr Schrader would bring his books back to him damp, because the old cart had crashed and fallen into a puddle.  
"Don't worry. I think I can get it." He lifted the wheels and propped them up against the wall, pulling the weight away from the old school teacher. He then grabbed the man's hand and pulled him out before helping him get the cart back on it's feet.

Descole watched from the factory doorway as the mayor hfixed the problem with ease, and he couldn't help but think of that prisoner who had broken parole so many years ago. The man who lifted the mast in such a way. It was an absurd thought but maybe, just maybe his search was over.

When Mr Schrader was finally free, he shook hands with Hershel "Thank you so much Mr Bronev, I really should get a new cart. This one's getting pretty old. Had it since I was just a young lad"

"I believe that would be a good idea" He chuckled. Descole walked over to the pair and looked into Hershel's eyes for far too long than was necessary "Mr Descole is something the matter?"

"Yes, there is. Yes I knew it. I was right." He was convinced that this was the man he seeked, he turned to get back onto his horse, planning to research further this 'Theodore Bronev", leaving Layton gazing in bewilderment and confusion after him.

_In this story, canon family trees have been pretty much abolished, so no questions about Claire being the mother of... well you'll see_

_As for the prisoner number from last time, Good guess Fafaa61 but not quite (Though that guess is really good and probably better than the actual reason behind it)_


	3. I Dreamed a Dream

_Thank you to anyone who's reviewed, favourited and followed so far, It really means a lot! (There were some strange formatting errors when I first posted this so here's hoping it's readable now!)_

**I own nothing at all**

Chapter 3: I Dreamed a Dream

The night air bit at Claire's face as she wandered down the narrow staircase, avoiding eye contact with anyone who seemed dangerous. She had nowhere to go; she'd left her daughter with an innkeeper outside of town and could hardly go back there without money to pay for their services. The sums of cost had risen dramatically in the last few weeks, as more and more medicine was required to help her child. She was going to have to find other ways of making up for the money, now that she was entirely jobless. She took her glasses off and approached one of the less shady men.

"Excuse me, how much for this?" The man took the pair and looked them over.

"I'll give you twenty picarats for it."

"Twenty?" She'd never get by on so little money "Please, it's worth thirty at least. They're from London!" The man laughed in her face and shoved the glasses back at her. Feeling deflated, she placed them back onto her nose and began to walk to the plaza of the town. She could see the people in the alleyways watching her; they knew she didn't belong. All the local women wore over the top makeup and dresses that were probably once very expensive and pretty but were now tattered and ripped beyond repair. The _Lovely Ladies_, they were called. It wasn't a well-respected term. She decided to go on her way, rather than wait around for the inevitable trouble.

Claire felt something brush against her head. She spun round and took a defensive stance.

"You've got some lovely hair there, miss. I'll pay you well for it, if you'd like." A woman with a large hairdo and high heels stood there, Ludmilla. There was the inevitable trouble.

"Don't touch me! I'm not planning on staying here; I just want to get to the train station." The woman frowned as Claire lifted the hem of her skirt and continued down

"I'll give you fifty for it." Claire stopped, wondering if she'd heard right "I run a costume shop in the town over, I know it sound ridiculous but it'd really help."

"Fifty? Fifty picarats?" That was more than Claire could've asked for, it'd pay for at least the next few days. She touched her hair again, what did she have to lose? It'd grow back soon enough "Fine." Ludmilla smiled and took her hand, leading her to a room at the side of one of the alley houses. She took a knife from the counter and began hacking away at Claire's ginger locks. _It's worth it_ Claire told herself as she watched it fall to the floor. When she was finished, Ludmilla handed her the coins and thanked her. Claire caught sight of herself in the window; she hardly recognised her own reflection. She felt like crying.

She had fifty coins with her now, but it was hardly enough. There had to be another way to make money... She made her way through the crowd, which had dispersed slightly as each of the ladies found a partner and wandered away. One woman was still there without a man, clad in a large boa and silk dress. She looked as if she'd stepped right out of a stage show. The woman noticed her staring and walked to her

"You lost, love?" She had an expression of confidence and sincerity on her made up face, which compelled Claire to speak with her.

"I'm trying to find money; I've got debts to pay." She hadn't wanted to confide to anyone, but this woman seemed to know what was happening.

"Well you've come to the right place; this is a goldmine for work. Especially for a nice girl like you. Ilyana, by the way" Claire shook her hand. "So, how do you feel about selling teeth? Does that appeal?" Claire raised a hand to her mouth and refused. "Hm, shame. Well you already got some cash from your hair so I can only think of one other option. _That_ option." Claire knew what she was talking about, the famed pursuit of the Lovely Ladies.

"I-I don't think I could do that." She turned to walk off, the few ladies that were near her sighed.

"Too bad… I had a couple of gentleman that'd be dying to meet someone; they'd probably pay a lot." Claire hesitated "They aren't the best looking chaps in the world. Pretty desperate." Ilyana added. Claire stared at the floor and sighed. She had nothing left. Might as well make use of what she could, and she'd done worse things in life before.

"Okay." Claire answered quickly and with no emotion in her voice.

"Hey Frankie." Ilyana gestured to a crudely dresses man with a nose too large for his face and a deck of playing cards sticking out of his left sleeve. She introduced him to Claire but she was hardly paying attention. How had life come to this?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Claire laid herself down in the back of the alleyway. There was a fair bit of extra change in her pocket but she couldn't bring herself to feel joy. Ilyana had assured her that it would get better; others scoffed at her for being so 'feeble'. She'd been doing so well that morning and now she looked down at herself. She felt dirty, both her body and her mind. A garish red dress that she was told would 'attract customers', hair cut so flat against her head she couldn't bear to touch it and a dead look in her eye; all the beautiful signs of Lovely Lady. Under normal circumstances, Claire would have given up and gone home with what she had but something kept her there. The image of a young brunette girl lying ill in her bed calling for her mother's protection, she couldn't let her daughter down

She remembered how her life had been before. She'd had high hopes for the future, planning to have a career in Science, a field she'd been interested in since she was young. She was in a happy relationship with a boy from her old school, when she found out about her pregnancy she was overjoyed and rushed to tell him. He was gone the next day. It was near impossible to find work whilst looking after a child, so they went many years with no money coming in at all. Claire was sure she'd finally found a new way of life once the innkeepers showed her hospitality, Claire did the odd job around the place to pay for services. But then her daughter became sick and of course living costs increased until Claire could no longer bear it. She got a job working in Mr Bronev's factory, keeping the fact that she had a child and no husband out of the light. And now she was here.

Claire picked her head up off of the floor, how long had she been reminiscing? Her cheeks were damp with tears; she hadn't even noticed she was crying. She got up and walked into the street, it was near enough empty now. She decided to head towards the plaza now, find her way back to the inn. A train ticket would waste her 'well earned' money though; she'd have to see how far she could walk. She decided to ask Ilyana the way.

"Well what do we have here then?" Claire froze. It couldn't be him, not here. "If it ain't the little slut I fired this morning." How dare he call her names, after he was the very one who sent her here?

"Jakes, please leave me alone, you've caused me enough misery for today." She tried to maintain composure despite the anger and fear inside.

"Oh no, I want to be here. Always nice to see bad things happen to such awful people." Claire clenched her fist "Yer not a pretty sight though, not like you'll make any money. The damn kid'll probably die, can't say I'd be upset." He stared in horror as the pain rushed across his face. Claire had slapped him, letting her nails dig into his cheek. She felt proud, that should show him that she wasn't gonna be pushed around. But, of course, she hadn't expected there to be witnesses.

The men came barging towards the pair, hatred flashing in their eyes

"Sir? Sir, what happened?" the policemen crowded around Jakes, eager to see the crime. Claire tried to back away but she found a tall man with a mask over his eyes had blocked her exit.

"Well, inspector, here I am just minding my own business when this prostitute -" he waved a hand at Claire" came and attacked me !" He gestured towards the claw marks on his face.

"Inspector please, you don't know the full story; He wished my child dead!" She couldn't end up on the wrong side of the police, if she were to be arrested then her daughter would…. Claire suddenly felt ill and collapsed to her knees. She felt sick. The mask man bent down and glared at her.

"You know what the penalty is for assault." He pulled her to her feet; she stumbled, unable to keep balance. One of the men from the back of the mob spoke up.

"Gentleman, before we make any assumptions, we should hear her tale." Claire looked over at him, immediately recognizing those features.

"You." She pointed a finger towards him "You were there." The man's face was a blur of confusion.

"Whatever do you mean miss?"

"Mr Bronev" She spat at him "you were there in the factory this morning, and you let him-" she jabbed the finger at Jakes now "Throw me onto the streets, Look what you've done to me!" Theodore Bronev eyes widened in realisation as he walked over and took Claire's hand.

"Is-Is this true what I've done? Let an innocent worker…." He looked to Claire and she grabbed onto his jacket, tears streaming. "A moment of your Time, Descole." He turned to the masked man, Descole, and spoke in hushed tones that Claire begged to hear. She watched as the man smiled and Descole grimaced.

"Inspector, thank you. Miss, please come with me." Claire staggered towards him, her breaths sharp.

"What's happening?" She asked as he lifted her into his arms

"I'm taking you to the hospital; you'll be able to rest there for a while. I'll sort out the problems with your job miss… I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name." Claire was overjoyed, the man who she'd seen as her enemy was helping. There was someone who seemed to care.

"Claire. Claire Foley."

"I'll request accommodation for you right away. And, you mentioned a daughter?"

"Yes, Flora. She lives with an innkeeper in the next town over." He smiled at her.

"I shall send for her as well."


	4. Who am I

_This is __slightly shorter__ than usual, because a scene I planned to have now has been moved to the next chapter. (I also want to get the introductory chapters finished so that i can get onto the main section of the story)_

**Still own nothing.**

Hershel waited. He had been summoned by the inspector to discuss an urgent matter. He looked round impatiently; surely they hadn't discovered him here? He'd spent so many years building up the Theodore persona, but maybe all that life was at an end. He hadn't done too poorly; he'd started up a business and helped many citizens. Perhaps it was time to give in. His thoughts were interrupted by a bell signalling that the inspector had entered. Layton prepared himself for what was coming.

"Mr Bronev. I would like to relieve myself of my position." Hershel froze. Surely he'd misheard the man. "I almost pinned the blame of a crime on you. I am truly ashamed and I'm not fit to wear this uniform." He went to remove his mask, as if he was to throw it away.

"There will be no need for that." Layton stopped his hand and raised an eyebrow "What crime are you talking about Descole?" Descole exhaled, clearly content that he didn't have to remove his mask.

"An old prisoner, escaped parole years ago. I hated to think so badly of you, but the way you helped the teacher lift the cart and when you offered the prostitute forgiveness the other day made me think it was possible that…. It was you." He was speaking it past tense, Layton realised, and that must mean that he no longer thinks so. "I was wrong. We found the man elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" Now he was just thoroughly confused, this man accused him of his crime then claimed he had found someone else?

"A scientist. Tried to tell us his name was 'Dimitri Allen' but I'd seen him preaching about how he was 'Hershel Layton', even had the audacity to dress the same way he did when I arrested him. Seems he's still an awful man, the people are terrified of him."

"Oh…"

"Well, once again I apologise for my treachery against you, if it ever happens again I will not hesitate to resign immediately." He left without another word. Hershel sat down and stared at his retreating figure. Was he finally free of his past burden? If this man were arrested, there would never be a need for him to worry. Hershel Layton would technically be in jail already, this man was his chance.

But, something stopped him. Was it truly gentlemanly to allow a mistaken identity be the reason this Dimitri went to prison, was it worth it? He'd ruin a man's life just to save himself. That wasn't the code that Hershel lived by. He didn't want to spend a life leading a lie, with a fake name and a fraud doing his time as a slave. He pulled his hat further onto his head and stormed towards the courthouse, knowing that he was finally going to right this wrong.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Claire lay in the bed, as nurses bustled around her. The world around her had become hazy and blurred, images appearing at her bedside that weren't truly there. Ilyana kneeling by her bedside apologising, Jakes screaming at her, the kind top hatted man smiling. They all vanished after a few minutes, but there was one figure that kept returning to her. A white nightdress swung at her ankles and her brown hair flew out behind her as if she was stood outside, rather than in the hospital with Claire.

"Flora, it's bedtime." She whispered "You need to go home; Madame will be worried if you aren't back". The young girl reached out for her and Claire tried to grab her hand, but she was too far from her. "I love you Flora, but it's dark and so…so cold." Flora frowned at her, leaning towards her.

"Claire?" The image of her daughter faded as she looked up to see someone stood at the door.

"Mr Bronev? Where is she, where is my child? She should be here." Hershel laid a hand on her forehead.

"She will be here soon, don't you worry. And please, my name is Hershel. Hershel Layton." Claire looked up and met his eyes "I will with with you until she arrives." Tears ran down Claire's cheek.

"Hershel… you are something truly wonderful." She wanted to reach up, kiss him, and thank him for what he was doing. But she could barely manage a small smile. Claire began breathing heavily through her tears. "I don't think I'm going to be able to leave the hospital."

"But you child needs you, she wants to see you."

"I can't, I need to sleep…" She began to settle into the bed "Please, tell Flora that I love her, and I'll see her when I…wake." She looked as if she was going to close her eyes, but they remained open.

"Claire, are you alright?" She was staring at the ceiling, as if scared by something. Hershel began panicking. He put his hand to her wrist, there was nothing. Suddenly the stumbling and gasping made sense, he'd never even noticed. He ran his hand over her face, closing her eyes, giving her a look of peacefulness and kissed her forehead; vowing to himself that he would grant her final wish.


	5. Castle on a Cloud

_Only this chapter then one more, then it's finally revolution! This chapter was really fun to write though, as I was looking forward to introducing particular characters as they're some of my __favourites__  
__(Though some are out of character right now, but if you know the original story then you'll see why I've made them like this. They'll be back to their original personalities soon enough.)_

**_I own neither franchise. Still._**

_Castle on a Cloud_

Descole put his hand against his sword as he entered the hospital; he was simultaneously overjoyed and disgusted. The famed 'Hershel Bronev' that he'd felt so wrong to betray had been the convict after all. The man ran into the courtroom screaming that he was Hershel Layton instead of the man on the stand. The judge declared that this man was clearly not well and should be taken away, but Descole knew. He had always known.

The scene as he entered the room would probably have been touching if he cared enough to pay attention. Layton sat on the edge of the bed where the unstirring body of the young woman found in the plaza lay. A sad look was upon his face as he bowed his head and whispered something. The sea hit slowly against the side of the rocks beneath the window as the wind whistled.

"1919, after all this time." He looked up to see him, the look on Layton's face showed mild shock but he had clearly known this was going to happen.

"Please Inspector, this woman has a child that isn't aware yet, I need to speak with her." He pleaded with him, Descole scoffed at him.

"You really should have thought of that before you turned yourself in then shouldn't you?" He unsheathed his sword "I'll be taking you back to the docks now. The child will learn of the news soon enough." Hershel backed towards the window, wary of the sword's swinging.

"Just a few days, then I'm yours." He frantically grabbed a pipe that was hooked up on the wall and yanked it from its fixtures. Descole swung towards him as Hershel blocked with the pipe now it his grasp. "It's all I need."

"I've been hunting you for years; you think I'm going to give up now? Pah, you're more clueless than I thought." He flicked the pipe out from Hershel's hand and raised the sword to his neck, trapping him between himself and the window "You don't think I know how you criminals think? I grew up with criminals. You say you'll return but intend to flee at first chance."

"I guess this is my chance then." Descole barely had time to register his words before Hershel jumped backwards into the water below. Descole screamed his name but Hershel was long gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monte D'or was unlike a town anybody had seen before, as you passed through it you'd be suddenly hit with a barrage of life and noise that weren't present in the gloomy town of Folsense. Gamblers stood on street corners and everyone around was nearly always drunk, it was odd for people not to be. The main cause of all the strange town customs was a place called the Camel's Hump hotel. Run by the eccentric inventor Don Paulo, a strange moustached man who seemed to devote his life to creating strange inventions that would ultimately fail. The inn was crowded every single night with people from all round town. Though most had a good enough time whilst they were there, the prices inflated by the hour and they often found themselves leaving with only half their luggage, as the rest was quickly concealed underneath Paulo's coat and thrown downstairs to the waiting arms of his wife Dahlia.

Dahlia was a strange woman, hardly ever showing signs of true emotion, instead faking them to get money. Acting flirtily towards the older men that entered and motherly when children were there. People joked that it was almost as if she was robotic which, considering Paulo's love for machinery, wasn't a completely ridiculous remark. Following her around like a dog was their daughter Emmeline, a loud and pushy girl that was remarkably bright for age; already able to get people to tip her mother extra by flashing a toothy smile and curtsying, holding her bright yellow dress as elegantly as she could.

In the middle of all the chaos was a girl much younger than Emmeline, small in stature with a dress far too big for her hanging off her bony shoulders. A broom was in her grip as she spun around the floor with it. A small rag doll was tucked under her arm and a quiet song left her lips. Flora had been at the inn for a few years, helping round the hotel and getting Emmeline's old, usually torn, dresses and leftover food in return.

"Are you singing again?" Dahlia finished pouring out another glassful for the circus clown that had entered, slipping one of his rings off as she passed it to him. She tucked it into her blouse as she glared at the girl.

"No-no I was just sweeping…"

"You've been sweeping the floors for the past hour and they don't look any cleaner." She tapped her foot against the pool of sand on the floor.

"I swept it up b-but Emmy just came back in from playing and put sand all over –" Emmy jumped up from one of the sofas and draped against the back of it, flicking the gold sand out of her brown hair to hide any evidence.

"Mum, she's lying. I hardly put anythin' on the floor." Flora protested as Emmy stuck her tongue out.

"Are you making up lies about Emmy?" Dahlia angrily slammed her hand against the back of the sofa, making Emmeline jump. "That's" She raised a hand to her head " I am just too busy to care about the sand right now, your father will sort it later. Go and fetch water from the fountain outside."

"But it's so dark out." Dahlia glared at her as she propped her broom against the wall.

"Well excuse me madam, for not being able to create light. We need water. Go."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hershel shook himself off before he entered the town; he'd floated down the coast for ages and managed to pull himself out on a rock about a mile back. He had the address on the back of his notebook and headed towards the hotel, but not before he noticed a very small girl struggling with a pale of water near the edge of town.

"Excuse me miss?" The girl looked up frightfully and darted behind the fountain. "I'm sorry; do pardon me I must look awful right now. I just wanted to know whether you needed help with your water." The girl stood up and peered at him, clutching a rag doll to her chest.

"I'm not sure if I can trust you with the water, you look as if you've already tipped one over you." Hershel laughed as the little girl came closer.

"My name is Hershel. Don't worry about the water; I'll just help you take it back to your home." He picked the buck up off of the floor, it was heavy even to him, how the girl planned to carry it was beyond him.

"I'm Flora." She offered a clumsy curtsy.

"Flora… Is your mother Claire Foley?"

"Yes, do you know her? I haven't seen her in a long time…." He decided not to trouble her with the news just yet. "I miss her."

"I do know her. She's a lovely person."

_Reviews would be really appreciated!_


	6. Stars

_FINALLY. I said when I started this that I was determined to at least finish the initial section (believe me, I wanted to begin at the Revolution) and it's happened!_

**_Disclaimer: yeah right._**

Chapter 6- Stars

Hershel pushed open the door to the inn, allowing Flora in before him, and was hastily met with a loud shouting aimed at Flora from a man storming down the entrance hall. He wore a grimace on his face and stamped angrily as guests scrambled out of his way. Flora moved behind Hershel's leg, clinging to him. When the man finally reached them he waved a finger angrily at her and yelled.

"You left over an hour ago! What have you-"

The noise died down as soon as he looked up and locked eyes with Hershel. He stood up and dusted himself off before bending down to knee height and attempting a sympathetic smile.

"What …have you been doing?" He took the bucket out of Hershel's hand and pushed it aside with his foot. "Oh, the water. You really didn't need to get so much dear."

"Sir, this girl-"

"Hey, why don't you let me take your hat yeah?" He reached up for it as Hershel ducked away. He grumbled "Fine keep the hat. Don Paulo by the way" He hastily shook his hand

"Hershel Layton."

"I run this place, so if you want a room I'm the guy to ask." He took Hershel by the arm and tried to lead him into the inn, whilst slipping coinsout of his pocket. Hershel leant back and grabbed his hand, pushing the money back.

"Sir. I'm not here for the inn; I'm here about this girl. I found her all by herself in town; she assures me that your wife sent her?" Paulo raised his eyebrows.

"Well uh yeah- HEY DAHLIA" He yelled into the crowd of the main lounge. A woman popped her head above the ruckus.

"WHAT."

"THE KID WANTS YOU." Hershel saw her move towards them, a tray balanced skilfully on her waist.

"WELL YOU CAN TELL THE KID THAT-" She, just like Paulo, caught Hershel's eye and changed demeanour immediately. "Oh sir!" she added a flourishing courtesy "Would you like somebody to take your-"

"Already tried it." Muttered Paulo out the side of his mouth. He whispered something to her as she flashed a stellar smile at Flora.

"Oh, she's back, that's good! Come over here darling, let's take you off to bed, you're probably tired…." Flora hugged closer to Layton's leg. Paulo made some wild gestures at her. She eventually hobbled over, where she was met with false hugs and hushed anger.

"Now-" Began Hershel, lowering his hat "Before I offer my proposal, I have some grave news to tell you." He leant down to Flora's height, he dreaded her reaction but couldn't bear to leave Claire wish unfulfilled "Your mother is no longer with us." Flora's eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on the floor. Paulo and Dahlia faked shocked faces and exchanged worried glances with each other. " She sent me to let you know that she loves you, and to make sure you're alright." He looked at each of the adults in turn "And it is clear that you aren't. So my offer to you is that I will take Flora off of your hands. That she will live in my protection." Paulo looked apprehensive.

"You want to take our…our little girl away? But she's so important, we care greatly for Florence."

"Flora…"

"Yeah, Flora."

"Perhaps this will sway your favour." He handed an envelope to them "just over 1000 picarats. I assume this will cover any of her continuing bills." Dahlia snatched the letter and weighed it in her hand

"This has an air of questionable legality about all of this, _sir" _Added Paulo.

"There's also a very highly questionable legality over making a young child work for you." Before he had a chance to answer, his wife jumped in with the envelope.

"This would be a lovely amount of money, if it weren't for all the poor dear's medical bills. I'm sure Claire mentioned it?" Hershel should have expected something like these from these kinds of people. To further expand their point, Dahlia cupped Flora's face, exclaiming about how thin she looked.

"No more, please. I will offer you 200 more, but that is it. Flora will be in my care from now on. " He handed them the last few coins from his pocket and took Flora's hand.

"I feel sad about mummy... I miss her terribly. Does this mean that you're going to be like my father?" Hershel chuckled at the thought.

"Yes, I suppose so." Flora grinned "Come now, say goodbye." She smiled up as she quickly waved, more at the inn itself than the people and followed him out. Paulo clutched the money to his chest as he waved after her.

"Farewell Cora!"

"Still Flora."

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Descole rapped his fist against the door, fuming with anger. Several locals had stated that the convict had been there but he'd not seen a sign of him. Behind the door he heard shouts which, from the words he could pick out, sounded like an argument over money. Eventually a woman opened the door, an envelope filled with money in her grasp. She plastered a strained look of welcome on her face but Descole spoke before she could.

"Have you seen Hershel Layton round here? Tall, beady eyed top hat?" The lady scoffed at him.

"Seen him? Yeah he robbed us. 1200 picarats… yeah right. There are barely 800 in here!" she shook the envelope at him. Descole smiled, he search may be over and he had another crime to pin against him. "He ran off with the little girl that worked here, without even paying off for her full care, took her off in a carriage down the road." She brushed a tear from her cheek as she pointed in the direction. A child ran up to the door, demanding her mother help her inside the inn whilst asking what she was talking to him about, so Descole merely nodded and thanked her for her help. Getting back onto his horse he followed in great pursuit of Layton.

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Hershel looked down at the face of the sleeping girl beside him, running a hand over her hair. She'd fallen asleep barely minutes after they'd sat in the carriage, clearly exhausted. He knew that by this point the inn keepers would be aware that he'd given them less, but he'd found that fooling them was more gentlemanly than leaving Flora in a place like that. Though as she slept, he mulled over how different his life would be. He was now caring for someone. The last time he'd offered kindness towards a child he was arrested.

Then there was Descole, he was sure that the inspector would be after him by now. It was just a matter of time before he reached them. The carriage veered left as they headed on their way and then stopped. That was when Hershel heard the dreaded voice. He quickly shook Flora awake and prepared to move.

"Excuse me; I must check the back of your carriage. I cannot give any more information." Flora looked up groggily, but with a fear in her eyes as Hershel prayed that the driver wouldn't allow it. There was shouting from outside, he didn't hesitate or wait around, he simply took her hand and leapt from the cart, running away from it. He could hear the inspector behind and was aware of Flora's panting; he quickly lifted her up onto his hip and darted into an alley. They stayed there for a few minutes before Hershel was sure Descole had passed. He moved her up onto his shoulders and headed on their way, with a clear destination in mind.

After several hours of walking and evading any oncoming figures along the path they reached the place. Gressenheller, the old schoolhouse. Schrader openedthe door, recognising him at once from the cart incident and clearly understanding straight away. He let them in without a second thought.

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Descole looked out from the balcony of the Reunion Inn. He'd completely lost sight of Layton, with no trace of him left in even the most obscure places. He didn't know how he found himself out on top of the town's most prestigious hotel, perhaps it was to get a better view of the city, it was unlikely that he went there to look at the stars. But no matter what, he was there now, gazing up at them. The orderliness of each light shining in the darkness, how they remained there forever as his life went spiralling in every direction. He'd devoted many years looking for Layton and where had it gotten him? He'd become some hopeless poet looking at the sky. He frowned at himself and straightened up against the railing. As he looked down over the city, he knew one thing for certain.

No matter how long it took, he would find him.

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